


Raindrops On Roses

by DementedPixie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Human Castiel, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Castiel, Team Free Will, Wendigo Kebabs anyone?, Wet Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 10:51:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10875246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DementedPixie/pseuds/DementedPixie





	Raindrops On Roses

As an Angel, Castiel had always liked the rain. 

He liked the feel of it on his face, those first few scattered droplets that heralded the start of a shower. He liked splashing through puddles, safe in the knowledge that any moment he chose he could dry his shoes and clothes with a tiny pulse of angelic grace. He was amazed by the simple variety of rain types, from fine rain that looked harmless but in reality soaked through your clothes before you’d realised it, all the way through to torrential downpours which he loved to watch from the inside of the Impala, hypnotised by the droplets as they ran rivers down the windscreen. The old wipers never seemed quite up to the job and Castiel became aware of how Dean upped his concentration levels as he drove into the oncoming weather. With Sam asleep in the back, and Dean making bets with Castiel over which raindrop would reach the bottom of the screen first, such journeys were never dull. 

All these cosy, rose tinted memories weren’t enough to warm him now. Now all he had was steadily pouring rain, heavy and cold, a sprained wrist, Sam unconscious and with a badly broken leg, no signal on their phones, and insufficient shelter under a too shallow overhanging cliff. He adjusted his trench coat again, pulling it carefully over the two of them, trying not to jostle his friend too much. 

He sighed, once again running through in his mind the list of things that he really should have known better. First and foremost he was human now, since falling from grace, and his lack of special powers left a huge gap in his abilities. How many incidents would it take for him to remember that one important fact before leaping into danger? Secondly they shouldn’t have chased the Wendigo into the woods without more of a plan. And they definitely should have brought more equipment with them. Plus they shouldn’t have let Dean go back to the Impala by himself, although maybe if he’d stayed with them he would be caught in this mess too. He was better off where he was. Still, Castiel would have liked Dean there with them for many reasons, not least because of his amazing ability to deal quickly and efficiently with any situation he found himself in.

Castiel was shaken out of his reverie by a movement from his friend and immediately turned all his attention to the younger Winchester. 

“Sam?” he asked, instantly concerned.

“Hmmm… Cass?” 

“Yes, it’s me.”

Castiel tucked even more of the trench coat around the injured man, who smiled at the gesture. 

“First time for everything,” slurred Sam.

“Sorry?” replied Castiel, a little confused.

“Your raincoat,” explained Sam. “Useful at last.”

Castiel brushed Sam’s long hair aside and put a hand on his brow to try to judge his temperature.

“How are you feeling, Sam?”

“Monster broke my leg,” replied Sam, with a rather dazed expression on his face. 

“Yes, it did,” agreed Castiel, solemnly.

“Dean?

“Will find us,” said Castiel, his voice full of confidence. 

“So might the Wendigo.”

“If it does, I will kill it.”

“S’good… s’all good, Cass.” 

Sam ‘s eyes slid shut again and Castiel moved in closer, gently manoeuvring his own sprained arm under Sam’s head for him to use as a cushion. 

While the Angel’s relationship with Dean had always been more straight forward – what with the whole ‘I’m the one who raised you from perdition’ and ‘Dean and I do have a more profound bond’ thing – he had grown to truly value his connection with Sam. 

There had been many occasions during the development of their friendship which Castiel now looked back on with regret. The worst was most definitely their initial meeting, when Sam had been so eager to meet his very first real life Angel. Castiel had been positively glacial in his coldness towards him back then. In fairness Castiel, for all his millennia in existence, had been very new to interacting with humans on such a direct, face-to-face level, and had lacked many social graces. He hadn’t meant to hurt Sam by referring to him as ‘The boy with the demon blood’ but he knew now that he had. 

Life had been a cruel mistress to Sam Winchester. Robbed of his Mother as a baby and raised by an angry Father whose priority had been the annihilation of the demon who had killed her, Sam had become dependent on an older brother who loved him no matter what. There could be no stronger bond than a brother who had died to save the other, and Castiel was fully aware of this when he rescued Dean from Hell. What he hadn’t expected was for that brotherly love to be gradually directed towards him, and by both Winchesters.

Now, all these years later, he couldn’t imagine his life without them.

Sam mumbled a name in his delirium and Castiel felt pride that it was his, knowing that it was usually Dean who Sam instinctively sought when he was injured or ill. 

“It’s alright, Sam,” he said. 

And just like that, it wasn’t. Because as Sam flickered his eyes open the horror in them brought Castiel to instant awareness. The Wendigo had returned and, if Castiel had correctly interpreted Sam’s expression, was standing immediately behind them. 

They worked together seamlessly, using instincts that had developed naturally through years of closeness. Screened from view behind Castiel’s protective stance Sam flicked his lighter into life and dropped the flame onto the oil, immediately trapping the Wendigo in a ferocious ring of fire. As the Wendigo began to scream its rage Castiel reached inside Sam’s jacket pocket, pulled out the concealed gun and twisted around to fire a silver bullet into the heart of the beast. It was ugly and it was nauseating to watch but, within a few minutes, the vile creature was dead.

“Sammy? Cass?” The sound of Dean’s bellow echoed off the trees and Castiel smiled in relief, realising that the smoke and smell of burning Wendigo, not to mention the gunshot, had evidently highlighted their position. Dean would be with them in no time and everything would be okay. 

As the adrenaline began to fade, so did Sam, and Castiel turned away from the cannibal’s funeral pyre to once again tend to his friend, his brother. He and Dean would get Sam back to the Impala, they would go home to the bunker, Castiel’s wrist would be strapped up and Sam’s leg would heal. This he was sure of.

For the first time in far too long Castiel had a home and a family, and there was the other thing he was sure of – that he was going to do his very best to protect both.


End file.
